


Night Driving

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-27
Updated: 2007-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:54:16
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: "Dad is holding Sammy and the smoke is thick on the road and Dean needs a place to stay, just for a little while."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Aaaand Kelly ([](http://giventofly37.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://giventofly37.livejournal.com/) **giventofly37** ) wanted Dean/Impala. I tried to comply. :P   
  
||  
  
Dad is holding Sammy and the smoke is thick on the road and Dean needs a place to stay, just for a little while.  
  
The car is warm and familiar, but weird, because normally it would be running, vibrating from the road, the low growl of the engine lulling Dean to sleep; but now it's cold and silent, and Dean is as awake as he's ever been.  
  
He misses Mom.  
  
He can remember curling up on the cold leather of the backseat, shivering, clutching his hands into fists. He can remember closing his eyes and breathing with his shirt over his mouth, trying to forget the smoke smell.  
  
He doesn't remember the police cars, or all the yelling. Dad tells him years later that he held onto the edge of the backseat and refused to let go when they finally found him.  
  
||  
  
Dad tells stories about how he used to drive Dean around in the car to make him sleep. Dean always thought that meant Sammy would love driving, too, but every time Dad starts the car he wakes up and starts crying again.  
  
Finally Dad unbuckles the baby carrier and pulls Sam out, handing him back to Dean. “Try to help him sleep,” Dad says. His eyes look hollow.  
  
Dean settles into the corner where the seat meets the door, pulling the blanket Dad gave him up around them both. “Shh,” he says, and rocks his little brother—the idea still new, even though Mom's been gone for almost six months, and Sam's almost one. “It's okay, Sammy. I got you.”  
  
Sam falls asleep with the back of his head against the seat and Dean's shirt balled in his hands.  
  
||  
  
Her name is Cindy, she's fifteen, and she's _hot._  
  
The guys would die of envy if, you know, they ever found out about this; but since Cindy's already threatened him with death if he ever tells, that's pretty much out of the picture.  
  
He's only thirteen and there's no way Dad would let him drive the Impala, but he steals the keys anyway, and Cindy climbs into the back with a flirtatious glance.  
  
“Come on, Dean,” she says, sprawling on the seat, her skirt pushed up. “Or are you too afraid?”  
  
The memory of sighs and squeals, slick skin against cool leather, never fades.  
  
||  
  
Sam is too old in some ways and too young in others. Dean's too...something. Too busy to figure out what he is.  
So it shouldn't happen; of course, that means it does. One too many shots and they're stumbling into the car, laughing, fingers skating along the bottom of shirts, lips close enough that—  
  
“ _Sam._ ”  
  
It's easy to pull him down until he's pushing Dean into the seat. Easy to run his fingers across the leather and groan when Sam touches him.  
  
Easy, and when Sam's mouth closes over him, he turns his face into the leather and breathes deep.  
  
||  
  
He never tells Sam that he wishes Sam had left him. It was only a second, unimportant—and anyway, if Sam knew, he'd flip out. So Dean doesn't tell him.  
  
But even after he takes a crowbar to the hood, he sleeps in the backseat. It's not weird or anything; it's just more comfortable than the sagging couch Bobby lets him use.  
  
From here, he can't see outside.  
  
||


End file.
